


Merry Frakkin Christmas

by puszysty



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puszysty/pseuds/puszysty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colonel Tigh takes a day job</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Frakkin Christmas

It was only December 1, and Saul Tigh had already decided that he hated Christmas. For starters, this damned holiday never seemed to _end_. It had already been on a month, so the television told him, and it wasn't supposed to be over for yet another month. By gods, if Bacchanalia had lasted this long, no one would be able to move for a month afterwords.

More importantly, this Christ guy who the people around here were celebrating was somehow connected, as he'd been told by a baby faced young man who'd come knocking on his door with a bunch of pamphlets, to the one true cylon god. Baltar's cult had been lapping it up, going about door to door singing hymns about peace and love and babys in barns and probably something subliminal about world domination. Damned if he was going to join in that nonsense.

Plus, he was really going to shoot somebody if he had to listen to any more of those bell ringers outside the department store.

But life on this planet masquerading as Earth hadn't been kind just yet to any of the Colonials (except Baltar, frakkin bastard), and he and Ellen really needed the money. He had the white hair already, it was easy to grow a quick beard, and all the delicious food and even more delicious alcohol this planet had in abundance has caused him to put on a few pounds, so getting the job was easy.

He just had to keep explaining to the kids that his reindeer had gotten a little out of hand and kicked him in the eye.

 

"Daddy, that's not Santa, that's Colonel Tigh," said Hera, pointing at the patch on his eye. "I want to see Santa." As if the holiday couldn't get any worse, Helo decided to show up at his mall.

"Ho ho ho," said Tigh. Hera pouted.

"Well, honey, Santa was sick today, so he's having Colonel Tigh stand in for him. But I promise, if you tell Colonel Tigh what you want for Christmas, he'll tell Santa for you," said Helo, giving Saul a look made him want to give a quick berating. He would too, if there weren't six kids in line behind Helo.

"I don't want to tell Colonel Tigh. I want to tell Santa!" cried Hera.

"You got her into this?" grumbled Tigh.

"All the kids at preschool are. We couldn't just tell her no." Tigh scowled. It wasn't very effective in his ridiculous red suit.

"There's a Santa at Macy's in the next town over. Two eyes and all," he offered.

"Thanks, Colonel," said Helo, with that ridiculous grin of his. "And Merry Christmas."

"Merry frakkin Christmas to you to."

Merry _frakkin_ Christmas indeed.


End file.
